Where Are The Foxes?

Yesterday [Sunday] marked two weeks since I have seen the foxes.

Prior to this, on many summer mornings one or more of them have made early forays into the small meadow below the house.

Their preference has been for first light, scouting along the edges of the wooded tangles which define our north and south boundaries where the land tips into the ravines.

Photo ops haven't done justice to the beauty of the foxes. My camera is unsophisticated and the low grey light of early morning has seemed to swirl gently about the rusty moving shapes.

This photo was taken through my bedroom window.

We became aware of the resident foxes soon after our purchase of the property.  During the winter and early spring months of house building we sometimes saw an adult fox appear from behind the barn to lope casually across the east meadow, pausing to sniff about in the drive before disappearing into the ravine. 

As spring progressed, Jim [whose hearing is sharper than mine] sometimes heard the high-pitched yipping of the fox cubs from a den at the end of the ravine.

Our neighbor [a long time resident on one of the three lots making up the Turkey Flatts property] assures me that there are three dens: the one in the southerly ravine, another to the north and a third partway along his drive. "They took over an old woodchuck burrow and made a den," he stated.

I became accustomed to seeing the foxes--often only one, sometimes a youngster accompanying one of the parents. Some mornings I've had the sense that they were barely out of sight, stealthily watching me trudge about my early chores of cat tending and plant watering. 

One morning, barely awake, I noticed Robert-the Cat poised tensely on my bedroom windowsill, ears alert, concentrating on something of importance.

Slipping from bed, I approached the window cautiously, reaching a hand to stroke Robert's long silky fur.  Below the window, a few yards away, one of the young foxes zig-zagged through the damp grass, plumy tail aloft, nose to the ground. 

Robert and I watched in equal fascination as he/she meandered down the slight slope of the meadow, stopping to rise and pounce on some hapless mouse or small insect.

I continue to look for the foxes, going repeatedly to the window each morning. During July and August the foxes established a pattern: perhaps three mornings in succession they were here, then no sign of them for the same number of days.  I told myself that they likely made their circuit earlier or later than my watch--or perhaps they were 'hunting' inside the tangle of trees and vines on the slopes of the ravines.

Perhaps their visits have become nocturnal; perhaps this is a time when the youngsters are urged away from the parental den.

I will continue to keep watch, trusting that the foxes are still in residence nearby and will again make their presence known.